


When You're Ready

by xanster



Series: Deja Vu No Matter The World [11]
Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Flash Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 15:15:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7981216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xanster/pseuds/xanster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's this shop run by a man who has run the shop for the past 10 years. Every morning, he sweeps the pavement outside and every evening, he has a smoke and a cup of tea before closing up for the day. Some days it feels like he's waiting. Some days, it doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When You're Ready

**Author's Note:**

> Another attempt to break my writer's block by trying to poke an unfinished work back to life. I was walking down the street one autumn 4 years ago and saw an old man outside his shop, having a smoke. Our eyes met and I said hello. 
> 
> Mr P, I'm still hoping you get what you're waiting for, xo.
> 
> x-posted on xanster.livejournal.com (see that for the accompanying music)

There's this shop run by a man who has run the shop for the past 10 years. Every morning, he sweeps the pavement outside and every evening, he has a smoke and a cup of tea before closing up for the day. Some days it feels like he's waiting. Some days, it doesn't. 

He came to this neighbourhood about a few years after he retired from his career. A career that spanned many decades and was fulfilling in every aspect; one where he had peaked and became the best he could ever be. His name was imprinted in history books and the number of awards, of recognition that he had received, attested to the years of blood, toil and sweat. And so much sacrifice and heartbreak. So, so much. But it was okay, because he had never been alone. All the way from the age of 15 and until he had retired at the age of 45, he had never been alone. 

His feet and toes would remain deformed; testament to his hours in the studio over the decades and his gastric problems and chronic insomnia would be life-long, no thanks to hours upon hours without regular meals or sleep. But it was worth it, all worth it for what he had gotten back from the path he chose - to achieve his dream. And he had never been alone.

 

And there was his spirit; an unbreakable strength that carried him through hell and high fire. That led him through darkness and helped him soar on stages as iconic and great as Japan's Nissan Stadium and New York's Madison Square Garden. Even as he reached for the stars, he was never alone. 

Finally, there was his heart. Beating and giving him not just life but a love. A love that sprung from deep within. One that pulsed and throbbed and reminded him every single day that he was alive and he was human. That he was allowed to cry, to be lonely, to yearn and to be patient. One that reminded him to hold on, to trust in what he knew to be true, to bravely move on and leave the rest up to Fate. When insecurity breached his confines and fear and depression got the better of him, it was his heart that reminded him he was still not alone.

Ryujin ran along the street down to the shop one autumn afternoon. The breeze was blowing gently and leaves from the trees that lined his way, danced merrily in his wake. In his hand, he held the 2,000₩ needed for his games magazine; given by his mother in reward for doing his homework and the chores promptly. On the last Friday of the month, a new issue was due and he looked forward eagerly to the run to the shop.

The bell chimed as he opened the door.  
"Good afternoon, Mr Jung!" shouted Ryujin as he closed the door behind him.  
"Ah, Jinnie, is that you? I've saved your copy here." greeted a voice from the backroom.

A tall man in a grey sweater came out from the back. The corner of his almond eyes were now lined with age and there were whispers of grey lining the fading black of his hair. But he was still so very handsome, now with a quiet dignity in his older years. Ryujin had heard his older hyungs mention that Mr Jung used to be part of a superstar idol group in his younger days and even ran his own record label after retirement for a few years. But he had suddenly come to this little town near the East Sea about 10 years ago, selling off everything in Seoul, donating half to charity and opened up this newsagency, seeking solitude and quiet for his golden years. Ryujin's mother had told him nice boys did not to gossip about kind people and there was no one kinder than Mr Jung.

Mr Jung smiled fondly at Ryujin as he handed over the brown package. Ryujin beamed up at the older man as he eagerly opened up the envelope and checked out the cover. He could not wait to get back home and read it. 

"I have to go, Mr Jung! Thank you so much!" He said, bowing and turning around towards the door.

He opened the door, eyes still fixated on his prized package when he suddenly bumped into something soft.

Looking up, he realised he had bumped into another man.

"I'm sorry, please excuse me." Ryujin apologised, bowing deeply and moving to the side. 

The other man, a tall one too, smiled a toothy smile, eyes crinkling up in a mismatched way. He nodded and turned back, stopping in front of the shop. 

Ryujin bowed again and started to run off.

Behind him, the tall stranger looked hesistant as he stared through the glass door. He could see Mr Jung inside, bent over his stock, organising them into piles. His eyes softened and he bit his lower lip nervously. But there was no turning back now.

Ryujin was just a few minutes away when he heard a jingling sound. Ah! It was his 2,000₩ in coins! He had forgotten to pay Mr Jung!

Quickly, he turned around and ran back to the shop.

When he reached, he was about to open the door when the sight through the glass door got him frozen to the spot.

The tall man he had bumped into earlier had his hand up and holding Mr Jung's left cheek, thumb caressing it while he stared into the other's eyes. Mr Jung looked shocked but his eyes were misted over, as if he was in tears and he turned into the hold, kissing the hand. 

Ryujin wondered if the tall man was someone very special to Mr Jung and perhaps he should come back later. 

The bell chimed, signalling the arrival of a customer. Mr Jung stood up and turned around. 

"Hello.. Oh, oh Changmin? Is that really you?"  
"Hello Yunho hyung. It's me."  
"How did you.. how did you know where to find me?"  
"Jihye. Hyung.. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry it took me so long."  
"Changmin-ah..." His voice is strained, too tight with emotion.  
"Hyung, I missed you so fucking much." The younger says, his own voice cracking. The years have been kind to him, his handsome features mellowing into a refined look. He holds his right hand out, the ring finger bearing the mark of a ring that had been recently removed.  
"Yunho, I missed you so much you have no idea. I needed to see you, to find you and ask you.."  
"Ask me what?"  
"If you.. could, if you would still want me? Even though I don't deserve you and I never will." Changmin is crying now, heart breaking in his chest, like it had been for the 10 years he had been separated from Yunho.

Yunho smiles, eyes wet. He comes closer and leans into Changmin's caress.  
"Of course, I will. I always will. You took so long, Changmin-ah. So very long, but now you're here."  
"I'm so sorry hyung. So sorry you had to wait." Changmin leans his forehead against the slightly shorter man. 

Yunho smiles again.  
"But I knew you'd come. It was just a matter of time."  
Changmin grins too, he closes his eyes and leans in, "I love you, Yunho, I never stopped even when we separated."  
Yunho gently kisses him, lips pressing against each other, full of tenderness and bittersweet happiness.

"I love you, too, Changmin-ah. And I'll always wait for you, over and over again. When you're ready."


End file.
